Images From Palestine 7 min · And We Have Countries … And we have countries without borders, like our idea of the unknown, narrow and wide - countries whose maps narrow to a gray tunnel as we walk in them and cry out in their labyrinths: And still we love you. Our love is an inherited disease. Countries that grow by tossing us into the unknown. Their willows and portrayals grow, their grasses and blue mountains. A lake widens north of the soul. Wheat spikes spring up south of the soul. The lemon shines like a lamp in an emigrants night. Geography emits sacred texts. And the ascending chain of hills reaches higher and higher. The exile tells himself: If I were a bird I would burn my wings. The smells of autumn become the image of one I love, soft rain seeps into the dry heart and imagination opens to its source and becomes realitys terrain, the only true place. Everything distant becomes rural and primitive, as if the earth were still gathering itself to meet Adam descending from his paradise. I say: These are the countries that bear us…so when were we born? Did Adam take two wives? Or will we be born again to forget sin? Mahmoud Darwish Et nous avons des pays... Et nous avons des pays sans frontières, comme notre idée de linconnu, létroit et léchelle - pays dont cartes étroit à un tunnel gris que nous marchons en eux et pleurer dehors dans leurs labyrinthes: « Et encore, nous vous aimons. » Notre amour est une maladie héréditaire. Pays qui se développent en nous jetant dans linconnu. Les saules et les représentations se développer, les graminées et les blue mountains. Un lac sétend au nord de lâme. Blé spikes ressort vers le haut au sud de lâme. Le citron brille comme une lampe dans la nuit de lémigrant. Géographie émet des textes sacrés. Et lascendant de la chaîne de collines atteint de plus en plus haut. Lexil se dit: « Si jétais un oiseau je serait brûler mes ailes. » Les odeurs de lautomne deviennent limage de lun que jaime, douce pluie sinfiltre dans le sec souvre à la coeur et limagination à sa source et devient le terrain de la réalité, la seule vraie place. Tout lointain devient rural et primitif, comme si la terre était encore recueillir lui-même pour rencontrer Adam descend de son paradis. Je dis : ce sont les pays qui nous portent... alors quand nous naissions ? Adam prit deux épouses ? Ou va nous être né de nouveau pour oublier le péché ? Mahmoud Darwich (Traduit par Bing) And We Have Countries … And we have countries without borders, like our idea of the unknown, narrow and wide - countries whose maps narrow to a gray tunnel as we walk in them and cry out in their labyrinths: And still we love you. Our love is an inherited disease. Countries that grow by tossing us into the unknown. Their willows and portrayals grow, their grasses and blue mountains. A lake widens north of the soul. Wheat spikes spring up south of the soul. The lemon shines like a lamp in an emigrants night. Geography emits sacred texts. And the ascending chain of hills reaches higher and higher. The exile tells himself: If I were a bird I would burn my wings. The smells of autumn become the image of one I love, soft rain seeps into the dry heart and imagination opens to its source and becomes realitys terrain, the only true place. Everything distant becomes rural and primitive, as if the earth were still gathering itself to meet Adam descending from his paradise. I say: These are the countries that bear us…so when were we born? Did Adam take two wives? Or will we be born again to forget sin? Mahmoud Darwish J’aime · · Partager ·
Posted on: Sun, 20 Apr 2014 06:13:24 +0000
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